


such an almighty sound

by canniballistics



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canniballistics/pseuds/canniballistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Say it again," Ronan repeated, and this time his voice was quiet, hard for Adam to hear with his bad ear. He hesitated for a second before adding, "In English," and despite how low his voice was, the slight tremolo in it was apparent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	such an almighty sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vharmons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vharmons/gifts).



> hello hello! i really hope you like this, there were a million different ways i wanted to take the story and it turned out to be surprisingly difficult to wrangle it all down to one! i had to stop myself from keep going too, it's already so long /weeps there was just so much i wanted to throw in. but i hope you enjoy!
> 
> the title is taken from florence + the machine's "drumming song", since i felt it fit; please do give it a listen if you're unfamiliar!

If anyone had told Adam that Ronan was capable of feeling embarrassed, he would have laughed in their faces. Ronan Lynch was all things loud and in-your-face, unapologetic and proud, not embarrassed or shy. 

He'd never expected to be proven wrong.

It started with the BMW, with Ronan insisting that he was going to teach him how to drive stick again and that he was going to get it this time. To Adam's credit, he only stalled the car one time; the stream of curses flowing from Ronan's mouth was once again shockingly creative and eerily lyrical. (It always surprised Adam how many different ways he could use so few words and only repeat a phrase perhaps once.) After he'd gotten it over with, though, they'd started again, and this time Adam didn't stall out at all. Practice became practical when Ronan told him to pull out of Monmouth and drive on the streets; minutes became hours as he waited for Ronan to tell him to pull over, to swap places with him. It didn't happen. Instead, he kept driving, through the streets of Henrietta and out into the hills, silence between them and the car muttering under his feet. It was, perhaps, the longest they'd ever gone without bickering or a sharp word from either of them. He wanted to break the silence, to actually _talk_ to Ronan for once, and at the same time found himself desperate _not_ to. Anything to hold onto the fragile, fraught peace they'd settled into, and so neither of them said a word.

When he finally pulled over, it was bordering on sunset, dusk settling in brisk and brittle around them. Adam edged off to the side of the road to take a break from driving, meeting the querying look Ronan was giving him for only a second before climbing out of the car. He leaned against the still-warm hood, watching as the lights of Henrietta began to wink on in front of him. Ronan joined him after a moment, arms crossed over his chest and eyes sweeping imperiously across the rooftops scattered below. He was almost regal, from the curve of his neck to the angle of his nose, eyes narrowed as they surveyed the land. An idle thought crossed Adam's mind, that Ronan wouldn't look out of place with Chainsaw perched on his shoulder and a dented, skewed crown atop his head; if Adam didn't know any better, it would be easy to believe that _he_ was the raven king, rather than Glendower or anyone else.

After a moment, Adam noticed Ronan's eyes sliding over to watch him, too. 

He didn't say anything when their eyes met, and for once, neither of them looked away. For a little while, at least, and in the dimming light, when Ronan finally broke the eye contact, Adam wondered if he hadn't imagined an almost shy look on his face. But this was _Ronan Lynch_ standing beside him; shy wasn't in his dictionary, wasn't even close to any word that could be used to describe him. When he glanced back up, Ronan's eyes were fierce, challenging, daring him to say anything; rather than risk starting a fight, Adam handed the keys to the BMW over, and Ronan took them without a word. (The challenge died, quick to be replaced by a shadow of surprise.) They settled into the car, and were roaring back to town within seconds.

Adam leaned back in his seat, and once again found himself watching as Ronan drove. To him, stick shift was strange, like learning a foreign language; sure, he good at _fixing_ cars, but this was _speaking_ to them, hearing and understanding when to shift gears and let go of the clutch. He was impressed with how smoothly Ronan could do it almost without thinking, fluent in a language most others only played at, and it wasn't until Ronan spoke up that he realized he'd been caught staring.

"What?"

He jumped, cheeks flushing as though he'd been found doing something embarrassing. Ronan was looking at him from the corner of his eye, gaze flicking between him and the road ahead of them. Mostly unsafe, considering how fast they were going, and yet he wouldn't expect anything else of him. Adam nodded to the windshield as he fumbled to save himself, "Eyes on the road, Lynch."

Ronan scoffed. "Whatever, Parrish. I'm the best driver you know." He didn't look over again, however, and Adam could see it as the corner of his mouth tugged a fraction upwards.

And just like that, the spell that had been cast when they'd started driving had broken, and whatever it was, they'd come out on the other side of it. There was a difference in the air, something Adam couldn't quite put his finger on. It was good, though, and he found himself grinning as he stared out the window. They drove in silence for another couple of minutes before Ronan spoke again.

"If you're not gonna say anything, I'm playing some music."

Adam frowned at that, quick and confused. What was he supposed to say? What was Ronan _expecting_ him to say? "Sure. I don't care."

Ronan shrugged, then reached over to the stereo. "Famous last words." The phrase didn't process until after he'd pressed a few buttons and the speakers started screaming, and by then it was too late.

_SQUASH ONE, SQUASH TWO—_

"Damn it, Ronan!"

He laughed as Adam scrambled to shut it off, and it wasn't anything like his normal malicious cackling. This was something he'd heard only briefly before, something rare and infectious. Adam found himself laughing along as he punched a shoulder. "How many times are you gonna pull that, you asshole?"

The grin that split Ronan's face was somehow insidious and childlike at the same time, almost innocent in its glee. "Long as you keep falling for it, loser." 

They settled on something else, just as loud but not as obnoxious, and neither of them turned it down until they were a little ways down the street from St. Agnes. Ronan rolled up to park perfectly outside the church, and as he unbuckled himself, Adam found that he didn't want to get out of the car. It was a bizarre thought to have; it wasn't like he could ask Ronan to just keep driving, even if he knew he would. There were gas tank limitations, though, and Aglionby calling the next day. Reluctantly, he stepped out, fishing around in his pockets for the key to his little apartment. He hoped Ronan couldn't tell he was stalling, even if he wasn't sure _why_ he was doing it. 

The sound of a door slamming grabbed his attention, and Adam looked up sharply to see Ronan standing across from him on the other side of the car. He was frozen in place, furtively eyeing the church as he slung an arm onto the car's roof, leaning on it and pretending to be casual. _What's he doing?_ Adam wondered, as his fingers finally closed over his key. He didn't move though, watching Ronan instead, waiting to see what he'd do. 

And after an agonizing moment: "Hey." Ronan's voice was low, but he still made sure he was audible from across the car. Adam wasn't sure if it was because of the time (probably not) or their proximity to the church (slightly more probable). It was too dark to tell from his face, but Adam could swear he almost sounded nervous. He fidgeted for another couple of minutes, scratching a fingernail at some blemish in the car's paint, scuffing his feet in the gravel beneath them.

_Is this really Ronan Lynch standing in front of me?_

"You working tomorrow?" he asked finally.

Adam stared, incredulous. That was it? "Yeah." And after hesitating, it felt right to add, "But I get out at 8:30. "

"8:30." Ronan wasn't looking at him, and a hand came up to scrub at the back of his scalp. A nervous gesture. He paused (not hesitated, because Lynches don't hesitate), rocking back on the balls of his feet before letting out a quiet, frustrated growl and thumping his fist against the roof of the car. (Adam pretended he hadn't jumped, and Ronan had the sense to at least look apologetic.) "You're practicing again. I'm coming back at 9."

"What—"

And quickly, before he could say anything else, Ronan jumped back into the car and was pealing out onto the street, speeding away in the direction of Monmouth. Adam watched as red taillights faded, rendered speechless by Ronan's attitude, before climbing the stairs to his apartment and locking the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes, settling in to get some homework done, and found that no matter what he did, he couldn't concentrate on the words. His mind was too full: of the fact he had plans with Ronan for tomorrow night, the way the gearshift felt under his palm, the growl of the engine beneath his feet, the lift of Ronan's chin as they looked out over Henrietta. The anxious energy in the movement as he'd scratched his head. 

_I don't think I've ever seen Ronan nervous before._

Adam replayed the moment in his head, over and over, and felt a sense of pride trickle through him. This was Ronan Lynch: scourge of traffic cops, teachers, and older brothers everywhere, the boy who dreamt himself a pet raven and spoke Latin to trees. Ronan Lynch, who took a twisted sort of joy in riling others and commanded everyone's attention every time he walked into a room. Ronan Lynch, who was nervous and fidgety only rarely, and it seemed only ever in front of him. 

He fell asleep thinking about it, about Ronan, and in his dreams, they were _his_ hands running over his scalp, chapped skin against buzzed hair; sharp eyes became questioning, and the naked joy in them when he answered sent butterflies through his stomach, his veins, his heart. Each beat of their wings battered against the cage of his ribs; when they finally broke through, the butterflies poured out in a cloud of color and light, leaving behind nothing but a hollow in his chest. In his dream, Ronan climbed into the space they'd made, and the earth itself seemed to sigh with how right it felt.

When Adam woke up, he murmured a quiet _oh_ as he stared at the rafters above him. He hadn't been expecting that.

* * *

The next two weeks followed the same pattern: Aglionby, Monmouth, work, and driving with Ronan. It surprised Adam how easily he settled into it; sometimes they'd drive out to Cabeswater, when it needed something from him, and sometimes it was just to Nino's to meet up with Blue, Noah, and Gansey. One way or another, though, they would always end up on that same hill from the first night, either watching the lights of Henrietta come on or looking out over the soft glow, sitting beneath the stars. Two weeks of a quiet (and tense) peace, before finally, Adam couldn't take it anymore.

He nosed off the road, and Ronan was out of the car almost before he'd finished parking; he climbed onto the passenger's side of the hood, bracing his arm on top of a knee and getting comfortable almost immediately. Adam stared at him for a moment from still inside the car, the way his leather jacket created a dark blot surrounded by light, before unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out to join him. Ronan had seemed fine inside the car, but now they were parked, that same nervous energy Adam had learned to recognize reappeared. It practically radiated, from the way he drummed his fingers against his knee, to the way he was _definitely_ not watching to see when Adam would join him.

(He was definitely watching, and Adam had to make a conscious effort trying not to think about how endearing it was to watch him like this. _Ronan Lynch is nervous, and it's because of me._ )

There was a quiet thud once he seated himself next to Ronan, one leg kicked over the side of the car; he looked at the cause of the offending noise, and saw a familiar little white tub on the hood between them. Immediately, Adam knew what was inside, and how it would smell of moss and rain. Ronan continued to pretend he wasn't looking, but as his fingers closed around the container, some of the tension left leather-clad shoulders.

"In case you're running out," was the explanation he gave, and Adam knew he was done.

"Look," he began, and Ronan's eyes were sharp, cautious, _nervous_ again as he twisted to finally look at him. It struck Adam then that he was sitting on his right, that every time they'd come out here, and probably even before, Ronan always made it a point to sit on his right side. The side that could still hear. And when he wasn't, when Ronan was the one driving, he made it a point to speak up, to be louder. The epiphany set Adam's world spinning. Even Blue and Gansey sometimes forgot; the fact that it was Ronan, of all of them, who remembered shocked him.

(It shouldn't, though, should it? After all, Ronan—)

His train of thought derailed at the sudden knowledge, at remembering the things Ronan had done for him. Keeping on his right, teaching him to drive, the trial, the Barns, his father— There was _so much_ , and he'd never once thought to thank him, never paid it any mind. How had he never noticed?

"Spit it out already, Parrish," Ronan snapped. 

There was an edge in his voice that Adam hadn't heard in weeks: a hint of fear, the cursory anger that accompanied Ronan's default state of being. His hands tightened around the container he'd been given as he thought of what he wanted to say ( _thank you for the lotion, and for teaching me to drive stick, I like you, thank you for remembering that I'm partly deaf, thanks for noticing me, I know you like me and I like you too_ ), and took a deep breath. There were too many words. How was he supposed to say all of it without forgetting anything?

An idea presented itself from the back of his mind. Adam leaned over to press his forehead to Ronan's shoulder. "Thank you, Ronan."

He could feel it as Ronan froze completely, felt the pounding as his heart started racing; a tiny smile curved his lips. _Cute_ wasn't a word he (or anyone else, for that matter) might ever associate with Ronan, but it was something _like_ cute how nervous he was. Charming, maybe. He didn't say anything though, refused to risk chasing this side of him away. Gradually, Ronan began to relax: the tension eased out of his shoulders, spine no longer ramrod straight. Adam shifted so that it was his cheek against his shoulder instead; it was more comfortable this way, and he could still see the lights, even if his hearing was a little muffled. Here, now, he felt secure enough to permit that small loss, and Adam knew it was worth it when Ronan leaned his head on top of his.

Time seemed to fold in on itself as they sat together; Adam couldn't tell if it'd been minutes or hours or if mere seconds had passed. But it was serene, and it was good. It surprised him to open his eyes and realize he'd dozed off; Ronan had barely moved, and a creeping guilt made Adam start to wonder if he was even comfortable sitting like that. He took a deep breath to ask, to sit up, when Ronan shifted next to him. It was Adam's turn to freeze this time as Ronan nosed gently against his scalp, nudging him just a little bit closer.

_This is really happening, isn't it?_

The thought was short-lived. He could feel Ronan's lips moving against his hair as he spoke, but his voice was muffled from the way they were sitting, more a hum vibrating through his chest than words Adam could process. It sounded like _moe teh_ , but those were just noises. Finally, finally, he had to sit up, and Ronan's expression was something close to a deer caught in headlights when he looked at him.

"What did you say?" Adam asked quietly.

Ronan didn't immediately answer, ducking his head and scratching at the back of his neck again. "Shit, man, I thought you were asleep!" he groused, though there was no real fire behind the words.

Adam couldn't help the sudden, short laugh that burst out of him then. "You— Why would it matter if I was asleep or not? What'd you say?"

The laugh was a bad idea. Ronan's face shuttered as he pushed off the hood, pacing in front of the car for a moment before shoving his hands into his pockets. "It doesn't. And I was only gonna say it once, not my fault if you missed it." 

He held out his hand for the keys, and Adam stared at his open palm. Instinct told him to hand them over, but an idle, teasing thought considered making him come get them. Maybe if he played keep-away with them, he could get Ronan to tell him what exactly he'd said. But he knew Ronan, and knew how stubborn he was; he'd sooner walk back to Henrietta before saying anything now. So he pulled the keys out of his pocket and dropped them into Ronan's hand, watching as he skulked over to the car door and threw himself inside. A small seed of guilt planted itself in his chest. He hadn't meant to upset him. He just wanted to know what Ronan said. Adam climbed off the hood, shuffling into the passenger seat and buckling himself in as Ronan started the engine.

The car was silent as they drove back into town, Ronan bleeding a frustrated and hurt frenetic energy as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, looking through the windows, anything and anywhere but the boy next to him. Adam couldn't bring himself to speak, head bowed as he studied the little container he'd been given with far more attention than it required. This one was missing the same label the first had had, full almost to overflowing. It wasn't hard to imagine the lotion spilling out if he squeezed too hard. Adam traced his fingers over the empty space where the label should have been as the tires crunched over the church's gravel parking lot, and sat up straight when he realized it.

_Manibus. For your hands._

_—mo te._ A _mo te_. 

Ronan finally looked at him once he'd parked, a guarded sort of curiosity as to what he was doing. The hurt look was still there, hidden in the depths of his face, and Adam stared at him with wide eyes.

He knew what Ronan said just now, had said before.

_I am such an idiot._

Adam looked down at the little container in his hands. He could feel Ronan watching him, knew he was curious at the delay but remaining stubbornly silent. He held one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, fingers unconsciously tapping out a nervous beat as he waited. Did Ronan even notice he was doing it?

_I noticed. I'm noticing. I'm going to notice from now on._

"Ronan," Adam began, and finally looked back up at him. Here was a razor sharp boy, all edges and angles, with a grin that might as well read "Proceed With Caution"; Ronan Lynch, who raced in the streets and fought like a demon at the drop of a hat; Ronan, who was fiercely protective and made dreams into reality, who hid his caring behind sarcasm and stinging nettles. Ronan, who pulled a baby bird out of his dreams and nursed her to adulthood, and noticed that his friend's hands chapped in the winter. 

What was he supposed to say? _I'm sorry for laughing; I didn't mean it_ didn't really cut it. And knowing Ronan, it wouldn't mean anything to say it. 

Adam's gaze shifted back to Ronan's hands. He'd seen them after a fight enough times to be able to picture the damage acutely in his mind, and yet the thought of him delicately cupping a baby Chainsaw between them (bruises and all) wasn't at all out of place. Adam let go of the container of lotion, lifting his own hand to stare at the rough skin of his palm and quietly wondering, _What the hell does he even see in me?_

He hesitated for a moment as Ronan began to grow impatient beside him before slowly, slowly settling his hand on top of Ronan's. It took a moment to gently coax him into letting go of the gear shift, and then curl his fingers between Ronan's. Adam stared at their hands for a moment as Ronan froze. 

"Ronan," he repeated, and when he looked up, there was a question hidden behind dark eyes. Adam felt his cheeks beginning to heat up, but there was no way he was backing down now. He squeezed Ronan's hand, just a little bit embarrassed, but he wasn't going to back down now. A breath to steady himself, and finally, he murmured, "Amo vos nimis."

It took longer than he'd thought for Ronan to respond, and to say it wasn't the response he'd expected would've been an understatement. He seemed to be conflicted about something, a dark glower clouding his face, before demanding, "Say it again."

Adam frowned, surprised. "What?" 

"Say it again," Ronan repeated, and this time his voice was quiet, hard for Adam to hear with his bad ear. He hesitated for a second before adding, "In English," and despite how low his voice was, the slight tremolo in it was apparent. 

_He's nervous_ , Adam realized with a jolt. _But why?_ He squeezed Ronan's hand gently, cheeks heating as he looked at the way their fingers twined together. Somehow, saying it in English was so much more embarrassing than saying it in Latin. (Maybe that was why.) But if this was what it took— He tugged at Ronan's hand, unable to quite look at him. "Close your eyes."

"What?" 

The response was immediate, just a hint accusatory. Adam scowled, trying not to get defensive. "If you get to demand something from me, I get to do the same." And a pause, less upset this time: "Please?"

Ronan's only response was a dark grumble, unintelligible to him, but when Adam looked up, his eyes were closed. A sigh of relief, and he shifted in his seat. This was going to be kind of tricky in such a confined space, but he would figure it out. Adam let go of Ronan's hand, letting the fingers of his right brush against his wrist instead; his left hand lifted, hesitant before settling at the back of Ronan's neck, fingers brushing through buzzed hair. (It was nicer than he expected, better than in his dreams.)

He pulled Ronan close, and leaned to kiss his forehead; just a quick thing, a brush of lips, before he pressed his forehead to Ronan's. And quietly, he murmured, "I like you too, Ronan."

A breath shuddered its way from between Ronan's lips, but he didn't open his eyes. His brow was creased, an expression of helplessness settling over his features, but he wasn't opening his eyes, like he'd been asked. It was a rare moment, and so, so precious; Adam was filled with the overwhelming urge to kiss him, _actually_ kiss him, but didn't. It was already a lot, bordering on too much now. So he nuzzled against him softly, the tips of their noses brushing, before sitting back. It was late; maybe it was best to stop before he pushed too far.

"I gotta go." 

His voice was quiet as he said it, and even though he didn't want to, Adam let go of Ronan, didn't look at him as he got out. The engine died as he stood next to the car, another door echoing the slam his own made. Adam and Ronan watched each other from across the roof of the car, neither of them saying a word, and after a moment, Ronan padded around to the passenger side, the BMW's headlights flickering as he passed in front of them. Adam held out his hand, and after a second, Ronan took it without a word. 

It was a short walk to the stairs to his apartment, and yet Adam found himself never wanting to get there. Not if it meant Ronan would have to let go of his hand, not if it meant they'd have to split up for the night. He watched as their shadows, long with the headlights illuminating the path from behind them, began growing shorter and shorter. It was pointless to wish for; all too soon, they were standing in front of the building, and Adam peered up at the dark silhouette of his door with an unexpected bitterness. _I don't want to go yet,_ was the idle thought, and it filled him near to bursting. He didn't say anything, though, just let his fingers tighten a fraction around Ronan's.

"We could keep driving," Ronan suggested, almost as if he'd read his mind. His posture was slack, nonchalant as he made the suggestion; it might even be believable if he hadn't been gripping Adam's hand so tightly. 

Adam could only shake his head. "We have school in the morning, remember?"

Ronan's scoff was as derisive as possible, an impressive feat even for him. "Fuck school."

Adam laughed at that, and this time it earned him a wicked grin, rather than hurt. "No offense, but I don't really think you're the best person to consult on that," he said, and Ronan just shrugged in agreement. There was a long moment's silence then, before he added, "I really should go."

The only way he knew Ronan heard him was the way he squeezed his hand; still, neither of them moved. Not for a few minutes, at least, and Adam's cheeks heated when he belatedly realized that Ronan was looking at him. And after a moment, he realized that Ronan wasn't actually looking at _him_ at all. His brows were drawn, a look of concentration on his face, anxiously gnawing at his lip as his eyes stared off at some point beyond his right ear. Adam wanted to ask what he was thinking about, wondered what could put an expression like that on his face; before he could, however, Ronan spoke up. 

"Close your eyes."

"What?" It was a weird echo to just a few minutes ago, and the fact that he was on the opposite end this time didn't escape Adam. He frowned just a little bit. "What for?"

He glowered. "Just do it, Parrish." And then, so quickly that Adam was sure he'd have missed it if he hadn't been looking, Ronan dropped his eyes, an uncertain look settling over his features for just a second. Only a second, and then his face righted itself again as he looked back up. "It'll only be a second."

Whatever he was planning, it couldn't be that bad, right? Not if it made _Ronan Lynch_ look like that. Adam huffed, made a show of giving in to hide the fact he'd seen that expression. "You better not draw a dick on my face," he muttered as he closed his eyes. 

The grin could be heard in Ronan's voice as he replied, "Don't give me any ideas." 

His hand tightened around Adam's as they stood face to face in front of the church. It was a comforting, steadying gesture; with his eyes closed like this, Adam could feel his sense of balance slipping, unsteady without any visual cues to remind him the earth was flat beneath his feet. Still, for a few long minutes, nothing happened. He could hear Ronan breathing in front of him, the gravel crunching as he shifted from foot to foot. It seemed like an eternity before something changed, some subtle shift in the air, like electricity in front of his face. There was a whiff of trees, of gasoline and smoke. Adam drew in a sharp breath, and Ronan gasped in response; that electricity vanished, and seconds passed before their clasped hands lifted and something pressed against his knuckles. Adam's heart froze in his chest for a second, before taking off faster than ever before. 

_Was he just about to_...

And then, his hand was released, and the gravel crunched again as Ronan's presence next to him moved away. Adam opened his eyes then to see Ronan standing there awkwardly, the hand that had been holding Adam's clasping in a fist as the other scrubbed at the back of his head. He was flustered, and even in the harsh light of the headlights, the color was visible in his cheeks. 

Adam tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice, but it was next to impossible. "Ronan, did you—" And as if propelled by a rocket, Ronan was away without saying a word, walking briskly back to the BMW. He shoved his hands back into his pockets, head ducked between his shoulders. Adam found himself smiling, just the tiniest hint of a grin on his face. He shoved his own hands into his pockets before calling out, "See you tomorrow, Lynch!"

Ronan stopped by the side of his car; behind the headlights now, it was hard to tell just what he was doing. It seemed like he raised his hand to wave, though Adam couldn't be sure. All he heard was a laugh and a "Keep your voice down, Parrish!" before the car door slammed and the engine revved. Adam waited for the taillights to vanish into the distance before climbing the stairs, his smile growing with each step he took. When finally he fell asleep, he dreamt he was in Cabeswater, the trees whispering their approval and murmuring about the Greywaren. A thicket nearby began rustling, and when he looked up, it was Ronan. Adam smiled at him before holding out his hand.

Ronan took it without any hesitation, and neither of them said a word as they walked through the trees.


End file.
